


Night Owl and The Golden Eagle

by VivianeAviene



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Adult Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Other, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Tags updated along the way, Wammy House, Work In Progress, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:09:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3539075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivianeAviene/pseuds/VivianeAviene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, I should probably make it something like, " One unchecked impulse on an otherwise slow day leads a peerless cat burglar and a unique young detective down a road neither of them ever thought they would travel together. A journey of emotional exploration, intellectual stimulation, erotic revelation, and more, that neither of them will ever forget...", or some such flowery ridiculousness...</p>
<p>What this is, essentially, is that L and Wedy hook up. So it's about when that happens and the...comedy? Tragedy? That ensues. And probably quite a lot of very bad, dirty things as well...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waiting and Watching

**Author's Note:**

> So, basically, I don't know what I'm doing.
> 
> Please keep that in mind. 
> 
> Enjoy! Or, if not, feel free with any constructive criticism or really feedback of any kind. People are usually so reserved on the internet, but don't let that stop you!
> 
> Oh, and of course, I do not own Death Note, the LABB Murder Files, or anything of their official published/produced works, nor do I make any financial gain from these writings.
> 
> It's just one of the more amusing methods of procrastination I've discovered in awhile.
> 
> *Addendum: For anyone who stops by, this fic is on a temporary hiatus due to a convergence of real-life issues that need attention and my desire to revise a good amount of this fic, yet not having enough opportunity to really tend to it the way I'd like. Hopefully a few weeks from now I can come back to it and work on it the way I'd like to. Thanks again to anyone who's already read, and thanks to anyone who checks it out in the future!*

There she was, almost half an hour early, at the gleaming entrance of the hotel. The driver had barely pulled away before she started feeling antsy.

I picked a hell of a time to stop smoking, she thought.

She had already gone five and a half months without smoking, with the exception of that one slip-up at that party several weeks ago, and even then it was just one! Besides, going outside for that smoke had allowed her to escape the clown who had been hitting on her most of the night and calling her "Winnie". Ugh.

She wasn't going to jump on the kale smoothie bandwagon anytime soon, but she definitely felt better in a lot of ways since quitting; her mouth felt cleaner, her hair was softer and smelled better, her sinuses were clearer, and the seething rage she felt during the first couple of weeks had subsided. Now she just felt the occasional homicidal impulse when passing by designated smoking areas in public places, and she felt a little lost without what had, over time, become one of her trademark props.

Oh well. Good thing she brought a book, a mystery thriller she picked up at the airport. Groundbreaking literature it wasn't, but it would help pass the time, which she obviously had plenty of. She was usually punctual, but this was ridiculous.

The heels of her designer shoes made a distinct clacking sound against the pristine floor of the lobby as she walked. Heads turned in her direction almost immediately, which was not unusual for her; not only was she beautiful and possessed of a striking sense of style, she exuded a kind of confidence and purposefulness that set her apart from the crowd.

She easily found the conference room the meeting was supposed to take place in, having been to the elegant hotel several times. Most recently to set up the special surveillance system ahead of time. She'd been told she'd done an excellent job; this came as no surprise to her, but it felt good to get that kind of recognition from someone like him anyway. He was easily at the top of his field, his accomplishments in his detective work unparalleled, and he wasn't even in his mid-twenties. Working with him had its challenges, but it had given her some amazing opportunities and afforded her a very nice standard of living. Still, she hoped he was on his good behavior; he could be extremely demanding and rude, not to mention displaying the table manners of a barnyard animal. Well, maybe not THAT bad, but close. And for all that food there never seemed to be any napkins around, either. He was an odd bird, she mused to herself, wondering if even Watari really knew what made that guy tick.

She took a seat at the far end of the table, facing the door. She set her book on the table and reached into her handbag for her compact, and made a quick check of her makeup. Satisfied, she closed it quickly, smiling to herself when she noticed a man walking by who resembled a less-chiseled version of Aiber. Now THAT guy was a character; did his wife have any idea what he REALLY did for a living? She guessed that all that really mattered to him was that she believed he'd really paid for that wedding ring. Wedy hadn't needed it; she already had one for every day of the week sitting around collecting dust, and what good was access to the finer things in life if you can't help out a friend now and then?

She shifted restlessly and noted a slight pang of hunger. Where was Watari with his all-you-can-eat-buffet trays when she needed him, a bagel with cream cheese would really hit the spot. Or a heaping plate of chili cheese fries. She decided she was going to have to ramp up her workout regimen now that she was smoke-free as well. Beginning to feel the pinch of her sexy, sophisticated, and fucking uncomfortable shoes, she surreptitiously took them off-it would just be for a second, alright, and she was still alone in the room, who was going to see her? Well, besides him? Sure, it wasn't up to her usual standards of professionalism, but there was a LOT he did that weren't up to ANYONE'S standards of professionalism, including spending most of his time barefoot.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He gulped down the last of his miso soup and set the bowl aside, reaching for an orange slice, never taking his eyes off the screen. Yawning, he half-wished he could curl back up in bed; the mattress was nice and firm and felt good for his back, the sheets crisp and the comforter cocooning him in warmth. Of course all the sheets and blankets were to his liking since he had had the presence of mind to bring his own or have them sent for him for years now; he didn't get where he was in his career without becoming aware of way, way too many things that have gone on in hotel rooms that made him want to jump into a bathtub full of hand sanitizer and never come back out again. Didn't really matter if the hotel was seedy or stately, the patrons downtrodden and desperate or wealthy and worldly, the human capacity for generating filth, both literal and metaphorical, was best not underestimated.

At least he had gotten about five hours of sleep the night before, that meant at least one rem sleep cycle. It was so hard for him to get a decent night's sleep anymore, so it was like a precious gift when it happened. There was no time to worry about it right then and there, though, and he couldn't have sleep problems FOREVER, could he?

He sighed loudly, wiping the orange juice from his chin with the back of his hand. There wasn't much activity in the room since the only person there so far was Wedy, but he had to maintain his attention nonetheless. He found Wedy fairly compelling to watch anyway, silently marveling at how she had managed to walk so gracefully in those high-heeled shoes, idly observing the cherry-red color of the polish on her toenails. Mmmm. Cherries. Cherries and strawberries. Yes, perhaps he could have Watari bring him a delicious fruit salad tomorrow morning for his breakfast, with red and black grapes and maybe some watermelon chunks. That sounded wonderful. He did always try to have a nutritious breakfast, even though more and more frequently he spent the rest of the day consuming amounts of white sugar and butterfat that typically landed people in either weight-loss programs or reality television programs-or both.

Sipping his second cup of coffee, he slid his free hand down his boxers to scratch his hip. He had meant to get fully dressed right after his shower, but it had seemed like so much effort just stepping into the boxers and pulling them on he figured he'd deal with the rest of his clothes later. It wasn't like they did anything for his deductive abilities; on the contrary, letting his skin breathe a bit felt refreshing and relaxing at the same time.

That nice big bed was awfully relaxing too.

He worked his way up out of his chair and grabbed his laptop, dark, wide eyes focused on that screen the whole time. Specifically on Wedy's lips-well, the conference room's decor was nice and understated and boring to look at for very long, what else was he supposed to do, zoom in on the page of her paperback and read over her shoulder remotely? The book looked like complete nonsense anyway, so it was either lips or toes, or some combination thereof.

Just as he settled onto the bed, he noticed Wedy look up from her book, and saw a man enter the room. She remained her usual self, calm and collected, and he trusted her to do so throughout the entire endeavor.

Maybe now things would get a little more interesting and he wouldn't have to sprawl across the king-sized bed nearly naked, staring at the surveillance expert and brilliant break-in artist with the little red accents punctuating various parts of her body, silently ordering you to pay attention to them and defying you to find anything else you'd like to look at as much that didn't involve cheesecake in one sense or another.


	2. Something Out of Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second of a multi-chapter fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the people who have stopped by to read Chapter 1, and thank you so, so very much for the kudos, whoever you are!
> 
> Hopefully I can find it within myself to propel the plot past listing items found in the produce section and critiquing Wedy's choice in books.
> 
> And of course, I do not claim ownership to Death Note in manga form, Death Note in anime form, the live action Death Note movies, the novel Another Note, or any of the officially published/produced other spinoff media works, nor do I make any money off of this little adventure.

The minute he entered the room, she could tell he was trying really hard to exude an aura of being self-assured, but his confusion and hesitation were showing through his poorly applied veneer of cockiness.

 

He glanced around quickly, then took a rather long look at her with a hint of appraisal.

 

"So...is this the right place...?" 

 

Only if she'd somehow been entered in a stupid questions contest.

 

Her mind was abuzz with all the things she WANTED to say in reply to that.

 

"For YOU? No."

 

"Well, that depends on what you came here for."

 

"Oh, no, sorry; the dumbass convention is being held across the street."

 

However, she was a responsible adult there to do a job, and she didn't think L would appreciate her little comments, despite his own occasional snarkiness.

 

"Yes, it is. We are still waiting for the rest of the participants to arrive. Please take a seat and we'll begin shortly." There wasn't a trace of the annoyance she already felt toward the man coming through in her voice. He wasn't bad-looking; closely-cropped dark brown hair, deep brown eyes, teeth so straight and white there was no way it was natural, slightly scruffy facial hair. Of course she had already pretty much memorized his profile, the same way she had with all the others. Despite having already known he wasn't a very tall man at five feet and seven inches tall, somehow he seemed shorter than she'd expected. Not that it mattered much, they weren't running a modeling agency. Hoping this guy would know how to take a hint, she picked her book back up, pretending to read. He sat in a chair to her right, two seats down. Good.

 

There were only three other prospective recruits being expected that day. Every time she did this it was a little bit different, which was good, and made it easier to deal with the more tedious aspects of these things. Observing people was always interesting to her, and taking note of how each of the prospects reacted to different things was absolutely crucial. For them to get that far in the process, each one of them had to be either especially smart or knowledgeable one way or the other, or amazingly talented in a way L could apply in the course of his investigative work, or both.

 

Shit. She was going to have to subtly slide those shoes back on somehow.

 

She got back into her footwear just in time for two more of the prospects to walk through the door. Both men as well; one of them an American, like the first one, but of South Indian heritage, first generation United States born in his family. Thirty-five years of age, dressed in fairly standard job interview attire, and seeming very much at ease in his surroundings, he gave a slight but effortless smile, said a quiet "Good morning" to the first prospect and then to Wedy as well, and took the seat right beside the first man. Wedy nodded at him silently.

 

The other man was twenty-nine but had a boyish sort of a look to him that made him seem like he could be a senior in high school; he stood at six-foot-one, and had slightly tousled and very red hair with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. In his khaki cargos and gray hoodie, he was definitely more casual than business, but he also looked like he knew how to hang back and blend in, which could be important under certain circumstances. He hailed from England originally. Wedy thought he seemed oddly familiar somehow. Maybe she was thinking of Conan O'Brien. She'd ask L; he should know, he was the one who hadn't been to bed before midnight in years.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Having managed to push himself off of that heavenly cradle of a bed and get into his de facto uniform of blue jeans and a long-sleeved white t-shirt, he gulped down his remaining coffee and reached for the television remote, remaining attentive to the goings-on in the conference room.

 

He turned on the TV without even really looking at it, and set the remote on the nightstand by the bed. The station he had had it on last was one of the myriad twenty-four-hour news channels. He sometimes had the TV on just to have something on in the background.

 

Wedy had managed to wrangle her shoes back on, he noticed.  It didn't seem anyone else had realized anything of the sort, or if they had, they were smart enough not to let on. 

 

The first prospect had already made himself seem like kind of a doofus, but he had to wait until this was over to be able to make as fair an assessment as possible. Perhaps the man had simply found himself caught off guard, still, it wasn't a good sign. Of course, under pressure, people sometimes did rather strange things that even they themselves didn't fully understand. Sometimes they didn't understand at all.

 

His focus shifted to the news anchor talking in a solemn tone.

 

"....we spoke with the aunt of one of the victims in the horrifying "Wara Ningyo Murder" cases, who said-"

 

 

He turned the TV off and felt his brow furrow and his jaw tighten. 

 

Why did he even turn on the news? It's not like he didn't have enough on his mind. He felt his stomach sink as his gaze turned to the red-haired man in the conference room. He was reminded of one of the younger boys back at the orphanage. He found he had to deliberately steer his mind back to the task at hand. It was at times like these he wished he was more diligent about his meditation practice, but there was nothing to be done about that right now. Today would prove to be difficult, but not impossible, to muddle through. One tough day wasn't the end of the world. 

 

An image flashed through his mind of him and B walking along one of the garden paths at Wammy's, little B excitedly pointing at a small brown rabbit hopping through the lush green grass, L half paying attention and half distracted by the sound of the bells in the distance.

 

He wondered where the hell the fourth prospect was, already, he was ready to just get this over with and go back to bed.

 

He pressed the call button for Watari.

 

"Hello, Watari", he said, dejectedly.

 

"L...L? What can I do for you?" He sounded concerned.

 

"Watari, will you bring me one of those chocolate cake rolls?"

 

"Will that be all?"

 

"Mmmm...hmmm...will you bring me a strawberry one as well?"

 

"Of course."

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The young, green-eyed Argentinean woman made her way briskly into the conference room. Seeing that all eyes were on her, she stiffened almost imperceptibly, and said, "I'm sorry if I've kept you all waiting, this was the time I was made to believe we would all be expected."

 

"It's quite alright, you're just on time," Wedy replied. Just barely on time, but still on time. This one would be interesting to watch, too.

 

"All right. Now that everyone is present, I have an announcement to make."

 

Well, he sure isn't wasting any time today, Wedy thought. For some reason that computer-altered voice always creeped her out a little bit. The funny thing was, his real voice was actually kind of sexy. If he ever got tired of detective work he could go right into a career in voice-overs without a hitch. 

 

...."this meeting will be postponed until further notice. Again, please accept my sincerest apologies. You will be given further instructions very soon, so please keep your assigned communication devices with you at all times now that you are in the building. Arrangements will be made to fully compensate you for any additional expenses you may incur. You have the rest of the day to do as you please. I am truly sorry for your inconveniences."

 

OK, he just really wasted everybody's time.

 

What the fuck was going on? Was this one of his infamous little stunts-oh, sorry, "tests"? He always ran these things by her first so she'd be prepared. If something had gone severely wrong, Watari would have contacted her by now, wouldn't he?

 

She looked at the bewildered and angry group, and got up quickly.

 

"Excuse me."

 

She gathered her things and rapidly made her way to the elevator.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The banging on the door was loud and insistent.

 

He stood just inches away, fuming. What if the prospects had followed her up? Of course they HADN'T, he could see that easily thanks to all the additional custom surveillance devices she had installed, and they seemed like they were smart enough to not want to take a chance like that anyway, but a man in his position had to take certain precautions, and this was highly irresponsible of her. Irresponsible and disrespectful. Did she not know, after all this time, that she would get an explanation and further instructions almost immediately?

 

The knocking stopped.

 

"Are you going to let me in?", the exasperated voice asked through the door.

 

He couldn't bring himself to reply.

 

He wasn't sure WHAT he was going to do.

 

That wasn't like him.

 

The seconds seemed like hours.

 

"Well?" She sounded really impatient. Then, a bit more gently, "Is everything OK in there?"

 

"Fuck", he heard her hiss, and stomp her foot down. "I'm going to go get the fanciest, high-end cup of coffee and breakfast I can find in this city, and it's going against your expenses," she grumbled, knowing she would probably regret saying that later. 

 "Wait." His even-toned voice came through just as she turned to walk away. She pivoted back.

 

"Hey-"

 

"Wait. Please. Wait."

 

She heard the door unlock.

 

"OK. Come in."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know none of the fun, filthy, nasty things the tags allude to have occurred yet; please don't take it as false advertising, it's that I'm trying to create some semblance of story here and not do a PWP ( not that there's anything wrong with those... )


	3. Alone Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 of the...saga? Misadventures? Banal, erotically-tinged interludes?
> 
> Of L.
> 
> And Wedy.
> 
> The two characters that seem least likely to...at least with each other....with very few exceptions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though I still don't know what I'm doing, I press on. Here's hoping I figure it out fast for both L's and Wedy's sake, since they're going to be the ones pressing on each other in a few minutes. And if neither of THEM know what they're doing, well...
> 
> Then this fic isn't going to be as "multi-chaptered" as i thought...

She walked into his room, still visibly pissed off, but not as incensed as she'd been on the way up in the elevator.

He stood several feet back from the door. His seemed especially tense, and his head was lowered to the point at which his face was completely out of sight, gaze fixed to the floor in front of him. Here he was, a grown man-or something like one, she supposed-and right there and then he almost looked like a young boy who had just been placed in a "time-out."

"Well?" she asked.

The only response was a subtle shifting of his left foot.

"Don't you"...she started a sentence in a particular line of questioning in a particularly harsh tone and then, briefly turning away from him, thought better of it.

Facing him once again, she decided to take a different tack with him in this situation.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes."

"L, what's going on? Look, if something came up and-" he cut her off, looking up at her with a pained expression and exhaustion in his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"Okay. L, seriously, was this some kind of experiment, or a drill, or a last-minute change of plans?" She had enough self-restraint to not ask some sarcastic question about there being some sort of worldwide sugar shortage crisis for him to get to the bottom of. "Or what? You had me really worried for a second, there, I didn't know if the process had been compromised or if any of us were in danger, and-"

He interrupted her again. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "To answer your question," he continued a bit more confidently now, "yes, there was a sudden change of plans. Given the sets of personalities and wide-ranging abilities, I wanted to test your reactions as individuals and as a group to the kind of mundane, minor setbacks people on teams face day in, day out." That was not at all true, because he had just made it up; he had made it up, because he needed a passably-believable lie. He wanted to lie because he didn't want to tell the truth for many reasons. This was simply a matter of course for him in his career, and so it had become second nature to him. That it was already a part of his nature was something that was often overlooked, even by his own self.

This was not his typical M.O.. Then again, DID he have a "typical M.O." to point to when things like this happened? Maybe only Watari knew for sure. Maybe only L knew...

"Really?" It came out a lot more snidely than she'd intended it to.

"Yes", came the stone-faced reply.

She let out an exasperated sigh and took off her sunglasses which had ceased to be really necessary at least since she'd gotten indoors. Just before she turned her glance to the ceiling as if looking to the heavens for help, L caught a glimpse of her aquamarine eyes-or were they grey-green? Stormy blue? Who knew, they were ice, they were ash, they were gone in a flash upwards to the ceiling, inscrutable, looking for something undefinable beyond their being, past the plaster and concrete, into the sky and out into space, to a rushed and deep and dangerous place-

 

"Hello?!?!?" She cocked her head to the side and entertained the idea of tapping her foot impatiently against the floor.

"Oh. Oh, hi". He regained his senses in a flood of perception. "OH. Oh, yes, I'm sorry, I, I, I just..."

"You already said you were sorry. If it helps any, I'm withholding my acceptance of your apology upon condition of your further explanation."

"Yes. I am sorry, I was temporarily distracted by poetry."

She made a note to let that go. For now.

"Part of the experiment was that no one would know all the details. It has, up till now, been customary for us to go over these things beforehand, and I am sorry if I made you feel endangered or ill at ease. Please keep in mind that from here on out, there may be variables you are unaware of inherent to the selection of the new recruits. It is my sincerest hope that you trust me and Watari to keep your well-being, safety, and security in mind through these endeavors. We have always done our best to support you in the past, as you have proven yourself willing and able to do these tasks as requested, and you are truly talented and skilled."

Didn't exactly give her the warm fuzzies, but what did she expect?

"Alright. Well..."...it wasn't actually exactly alright, but she was tired, and burned out from adrenaline, and jet lag, and why the hell couldn't the worlds of science and fashion team up to make a more comfortable fashionable shoe, already?!? 

He looked at her imploringly.

What the hell was UP with him, anyway? What had she gotten herself into? What had he gotten himself into? He did look thinner since the last time she saw him. Looked like he'd had more than a few sleepless nights, too.

He read her mind.

"Look, why don't we both get some rest and take the rest of our day for personal matters, and the two of us can meet back up here at ten a.m. tomorrow. We will go forward from there. If there are to be any further alterations, you will be made aware with no delays. Agreed?" 

He had this odd way of striking up a sweet smile that somehow didn't seem to fit the rest of his persona.

"Ten o'clock. See you then." She arched an eyebrow before turning around to head back out the door.

After watching her walk to the door and out of the room, he suddenly realized he'd been staring very intently on certain sensuously shifting parts of Wedy's anatomy, and he now had rather pressing personal matters of his own indeed to take care of.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 After rushing to undo the button of his jeans and hurriedly pulling the zipper down, he fumbled in the nightstand drawer for the small bottle meant for exactly these sorts of occasions. He got a hold of it at last and set it down beside his leg on the bed. He noticed his breath coming in short, anxious little pants, as if he were afraid he might have to make a mad dash for-for where? Out the window?-it at any moment now, almost as though he were convinced she would somehow KNOW, she'd just KNOW and turn around on those spectacular high heels and come marching on up to his room, forceful and determined and complexion flushed with anger...she'd open the door without a hitch because, well, that WAS her field of expertise, after all, and find him there, semi-nude, a slave to his desires, and absolutely pitiful. Him. Of all people. All just because he was uncontrollably horny, for the woman in his employ no less, and he couldn't even be discreet enough to take his little lovefest into the bathroom!

He let out kind of a whiny little groaning sound at the thought. Whatever parts of his brain hadn't shut off temporarily were actually making sense. Unfortunately, the parts of his brain that could actually take those bits of insight, process them, and motivate him into productive action, were basically out to lunch by then.

Having regained a modicum of sense, he wriggled his boxers down to his ankles and pulled up his baggy white shirt, exposing his torso and most of his chest. The cool air over his body brought the aching heat consuming his loins into sharp relief. 

From there on out, he was resigned to simply give himself up to the process and let nature take its course, come what may. Hopefully, him, hard, and soon! 

He chuckled to himself at his silly humor at times likes this. Somehow it made the whole thing seem a little less desperate and a little more lighthearted.

Before he could even gather himself enough to pour a bit of lube into his hand, his mind insistently redirected him to thoughts about Wedy. He saw those red lips, the color of blood and candy and velvet, and those beautiful, piercing eyes, so remote yet somehow so beckoning, and with the last bit of strength he had in him before all the energy and ability in his body went distinctly south in direction, he indulgently poured more lubricant than he really needed all over his now intermittently twitching and rock hard cock.

He sighed deeply and wrapped his hand around himself. His mind brought him wonderful, compelling visions as he began to stroke his cock ever so slowly, almost as if to punish himself for being so sexually debauched with himself when he should be tending to other things entirely; visions of Wedy up there in his room with him, just the two of them. Just the two of them. 

"L...?" He heard her say gently, seductively. He felt himself actually, physically gulp to stop himself drooling, his mouth was watering so bad.

She stood just inside of his hotel room door in his mind's eye. Oh, God, he just wanted to touch her so much.

"L, I need you to do something for me, it's very, very important, and it has to be done right now. Do you mind?"

Anything. Anything, anything, anything.

She turned around to face the wall directly to her left.

"Here, I'll show you."

She slid out of her houndstooth patterned skirt with ease and leaned against the wall. She kept her legs together, one ankle crossed over the other, feet momentarily unsteady in stilettos of a startling yellow hue. She turned around just long enough to glance back at him, coyly bringing her eyes to the floor for just a second, then turn to face the wall again.

His pumping of his own cock got more intense and rapid. He licked his lips in anticipation of something he was usually intelligent and self-aware enough to know was not ever, ever, even close to happening.

Imaginary Wedy then proceeded to hook her thumbs under the hem of her sumptuous black lace panties at each hip, and pull them gradually, eventually, TORTURINGLY slowly further and further down; past her gorgeous, subtly shapely ass, lovely thighs, and then they just kind of took a freefall to the floor, where she didn't even bother to kick them off to the side, just let them sit there until she stepped out of one panty leg opening with her right foot. At this point, she backed away slightly from the wall, then bent at the waist and put her arms out until her palms were flush with the wall. With a sudden, sweeping move, she opened up her legs, buttocks slightly upturned with the arching of her back, and slightly, slowly, swaying back and forth, and back and forth.

In the faintest ever of fantasy whispers, her mouth uttered the words:

"Fuck me."

His self-pleasuring became borderline frantic as his brain boiled down to a blur of thrusting and bumping and pressing and grunting, the sweat from her body coating her in  a slick sheen and rolling down her back and her asscheeks and her armpits in what was actually rivulets but seemed like waves, and it was so good to him, the wetness of everything and her moaning long and loud and longingly as he ground himself deeper and deeper into that soaking sanctuary between her legs, his faceless fantasy avatar grabbing her by the hips to get a better grip to pound the ever-loving daylights out of her, until OH, OH, THERE IT IS, OH-OH FUCK-

The cum propelled itself out of his body as if his dick had been briefly possessed. He supposed in a sense, it had been. Now that the initial ecstatic jolts of pleasure and relief were over, he felt so, so very sleepy, and also sort of sad...and also coated in quite a few dollops of his own jizz, which had landed unceremoniously on his stomach. And his hips. And his sheets. He was already way too tired to worry about whether or not it had gotten on that nice, puffy comforter. Ugh. If any had flown to such great heights as to land in his hair, he'd just wash it out in the shower in awhile. For right then, he was content to lean over and grab a few tissues to wipe himself off with, and, having gotten that accomplished, he languidly peeled off his damp, odorous clothing contents and threw them to the floor.

It was shortly after that that he let out another huge sigh and tried to huddle under the covers the best he could before succumbing to slumber with one arm draped lazily over the side of the bed.

It was the deepest, most restorative sleep he'd gotten since he could remember. 

 And it only lasted three hours.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She did indeed take herself out for a nice, extravagant meal-more to the point, L did. Too bad he wasn't joining her.

 

In the battle of the breakfasts, between French Toast and Belgian Waffles, French Toast had won the day, as well as Brunch Fries. She ordered an outrageously caloric coffee drink called a Technical Knockout; three espresso shots, vanilla syrup, and steamed half and half. Oh yeah. The day was redeemable after all.

 

Her mind couldn't stop flashing back to her encounter with L earlier, though.

 

Something about him was just sort of...off...

 

He's always been unusual, of course. A few colleagues had flat-out called him weird, and there had been one who actually called him "a fucking freak" to his face, out loud, in front of a room full of people, including her. L didn't seem to balk at the name-calling, the blatant disrespect, although she was sure it bothered him on some level. No, he just calmly told the agent if he was going to be prone to those kinds of displays going forward, then perhaps he should consider another line of work. Last she'd heard, the guy was pushing paper around at a desk job on the police force of his sleepy hometown, bored shitless.

 

So L obviously had his own way of doing things. Maybe it had something to do with the correlation between genius and madness she'd always heard about. Maybe he did it on purpose to gauge people's reactions. Manipulative? Sure. What would their lines of work even be, though, without a little manipulation? Couldn't be that much worse than working for some of these high-powered technology innovator types ( despite her love of innovative technology ) or some of the sleazeballs in the entertainment industry. 

 

L just had seemed so...unusually distracted. More worn down than usual; he often looked disheveled and he was tired a lot of the time, but he was coming off so...weirdly secretive. Even for him. Something was wrong with him, something serious; she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was there, in his posture, in his eyes, even in that strangely alluring voice of his.

 

She got a mental picture of his face with that sheepish, tentative smile. He wasn't bad-looking, at least she didn't think so. Looks didn't count for everything, she knew that better than a lot of people thought she did. He was definitely always interesting. Now his behavior was getting downright strange.

 

 

She caught her server's attention for a to-go box, a cup of ice water with lemon, and the check.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

He rolled over and realized it was now the afternoon. Grumbling, he clambered out of the bed and started the water for his shower. He felt an odd peeling sensation away from his right thigh and then a loud POP on the tile floor. He jumped back, startled.

 

Oh. The lube bottle. Well, at least the rest of it hadn't leaked out all over the bed.

 

How on earth could sex with yourself get so damn messy and complicated?!? The water was nice and hot now, so he stepped in, feeling better immediately.

 

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	4. Together Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 of...well, of whatever this is. Other than it being a multi-chaptered fic, I really couldn't tell you.
> 
> And even if I could, I probably wouldn't tell you.
> 
> Also, this chapter seems considerably longer than the preceding three. This is clearly a sign of something, what, I'm not sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone and everyone who has taken the time to check out this fic so far; anyone with any kind of feedback or anything should feel free to do so. Of course, this is one of the...how shall we say, lesser-explored pairings in DN fandom, but I wanted to try to delve into it for two reasons: as kind of a fun, interesting challenge for myself, and also as a distraction from other portions of my everyday life, including other things I should probably be tending to even as I type, but...c'est la vie.
> 
> At any rate, I press on; I do realize that this fic is really, really meandering so far. There hasn't been a whole lot of action in or out of the bedroom for anyone yet, which I didn't think would take so long for me to generate. A lot of it seems to be the characters' internal musings and little slice-of-life vignettes, which are fine and well, but a little goes a long way, doesn't it?
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy or endure, whatever the case may be!

Having arrived back at her hotel-not far from where L and Watari were stationed, just across the street and down the block-she made her way back to her room. This, too, was a really upscale hotel, maybe not quite on the level of the one L and Watari were in, but it still epitomized sleek sophistication. Her own room was spacious, the place had plenty of amenities, and a staff that was more than accommodating. One of these amenities was a state-of-the-art, immaculately kept gym, one Wedy would no doubt be visiting that evening in order to redeem herself from her three thousand calorie weekday brunch excursion.

For the time being, though, she was just glad to be back in her own space, or what would be her own space for-what? The next few days? The next week? Or two? She could only guess at that for now, but at least her calendar was clear of any other major jobs for the remainder of the month, so that was a relief.

It was also a relief to be out of those damn shoes for the rest of the day!

She walked into the bathroom and pulled a couple of makeup remover towelettes out of the pack. Slowly swiping one of the delicately scented cloths across her forehead, she noticed the roots of her slightly auburn-tinged brown hair beginning to grow in. No big deal. This particular job, she hoped, would be all wrapped up way before a trip to the salon would become absolutely necessary. 

Hah. "Absolutely necessary." A two hundred dollar dye job as a basic need. She probably sounded like one of those women on some Spoiled Housewives of Somewhere show. A bottle of something bubbly might not be too bad for later, though, come to think of it. Though it would pretty much nullify any progress she'd make in that gym. That and that even though the day hadn't really been a complete disaster, there wasn't anything major to celebrate, either, and she felt kind of silly buying champagne unless it was New Year's Eve or somebody's birthday.

Prosecco was another story.

Since it was far too early for her to be seriously considering that as either a beverage or an entertainment option, she decided to go check out the local independent movie theater. There were a couple of different films she was considering seeing, and the theater was only about ten miles north of the city center, so it would provide a nice little change of scenery without taking her very far away from "home base" and "HQ", such as they were. 

Before that, a change of outfits was in order. 

She quickly got to work removing the eye makeup. Quality, 24-hour wear. She wondered when somebody in some laboratory somewhere was going to get around to inventing some kind of miniature sandblaster with a "delicate" setting for paint removal tasks of this nature. God, no wonder people went out and got permanent eyeliner and false eyelashes. Even if some of them did end up looking like they'd stapled bat wings to their upper eyelids that way...

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His shower had been so soothing he'd nearly gone to sleep right there under the cascading water-well, relaxing except for that part toward the end when he'd dropped his 3-in-1 hand wash/body wash/shampoo bottle right on his pinky toe, that part was not relaxing at all and had actually been the impetus for him finishing up and hopping out. 

He grabbed one of the oversized towels from the counter and wrapped it around himself. He stood motionless for a few moments, dripping dry onto the plush bath mat.

From some melancholy corner of his mind emerged a memory. Having to run outside to retrieve A and B from frolicking gleefully in a raging thunderstorm back at Wammy House, A initially full of protests but eventually quite cooperative, B alternating between pouting and shouting the whole way back indoors, all three of their dispositions brightening considerably over cheddar cheese scones and steaming mugs of hot cocoa.

 He came out of his reverie and rubbed himself dry, picking up the wayward lubricant bottle that had hitched a ride on his leg earlier and placing it in the medicine cabinet. That was all he needed, for Watari to come into that bathroom for whatever reason, hear a crunching noise under his foot, and discover THAT. Of course, they were all adults and all that sort of thing, and L wasn't exactly the Poster Boy for Charm School, but even HE had SOME sense of decorum. Also, he just was fairly vigilant about keeping track of his personal effects, regardless of their form or function.

He eased into a well-worn pair of gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved black cotton shirt. An ornery sound came out of his stomach, followed by his becoming rather light-headed and wobbly all of a sudden.

He contacted Watari and requested a light meal.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The theater was a little cramped and the decor somewhat outdated-in the times-are-kinda-tight-around-here sort of way rather than in a retro-style kind of way, but that was alright. It was clean, the employees were polite enough and not completely preoccupied with their cellphones or gossiping among themselves, and for it being an independent place it had several screens. She had debated over a few choices. She'd finally settled on a French comedy-drama about a teacher trying to find his footing in his career amid classrooms full of mostly distracted and preoccupied students; not exactly action-packed, but her own life was filled with plenty of suspense and adrenaline-pumping moments as it was. 

She noticed she was the only person there alone, and one of only seven people in the theater. At least no one had brought any babies. Not that she had anything against babies-after all, she had indeed once been one herself, as had everyone on the planet, as hard as that was to believe about some people-but in her opinion babies belonged in movie theaters about as much as she belonged at a Chuck E. Cheese.

The lights dimmed and the ads and trailers began. Anthropomorphic food containers beckoning her to buy soda and popcorn and a thousand more empty calories paraded across the screen. "Smoking not allowed in the theaters." Did people REALLY need to be TOLD these things in this day and age? That was probably geared toward the same demographic of people who thought it was a good idea to bring six-month-olds to R-Rated movies about guys who hunted down giant homicidal robots.

The time passed, the film was good enough but nothing she'd go out of her way to see again. The car service picked her up very promptly, as usual, but since it was just late afternoon she had the driver drop her off right at the city center so she could walk around a bit. More often than not, when she was on these assignments there wasn't much time to go exploring, that or else the nature of the job was so sensitive she could hardly afford to be seen out and about.

Much to her dismay, despite the shining facades, there really wasn't much to the so-called city center after all. Several dining options, a stationery store, a couple of clothing boutiques, a gigantic metal sculpture that she guessed was supposed to lend the area a metropolitan-artsy kind of feel. Not a lot else that she could see, other than the stairway down to the subway entrance. Stopping at a small cafe for an iced coffee with a little sugar and enough milk to turn it from a rich, deep brown to a kind of creamy khaki, she sat herself down at one of the outdoor tables to enjoy the light breeze. The light breeze turned into an aggressive chill in a matter of minutes.She decided against walking back to the hotel in favor of the comfort of the car service, which seemed to appear before she even had a chance to hang up the phone from calling them.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 The day was finally winding to a close, and not nearly soon enough for his liking. As much as he wished for the day to be over, the setting sun and emerging stars signaled he would have yet another problem to deal with. Of course, he had actually always liked staying up late; whether he was working on cases, studying and researching subjects of his general interest, or playing games and watching movies with the other kids in Wammy's House, he rarely went to bed without coaxing from Watari, and even Watari knew there wasn't much point broaching the subject before 11 p.m., anyway. 

Lately, though, he could hardly sleep at all when he wanted to. It was as if his body clock had been taken apart bit by bit and all the parts scattered to the wind.

And he felt like he was trying everything; meditation practice, although he supposed he wasn't being diligent enough about it for it to really take any major effects; over-the-counter sleep aids that seemed to take forever to work and left him sluggish and foggy the next morning;listening to white noise,sipping chamomile tea, Watari's suggestion of a mug of warm milk was comforting enough in an old-fashioned way, but had stopped working very well after two nights.

At least he'd gotten everything arranged for tomorrow's meeting with the prospects. Everyone had been sent updates, including Wedy, who he had heard nothing from since their encounter earlier in the day. Not that he'd been expecting to, he had just thought about her from time to time over the course of the day-especially for that prolonged period of time in the morning-and now that it would just be a matter of hours before he saw her again, it filled him with an strange slurry of emotions; anticipation, apprehension, longing, and guilt. He hoped he hadn't made her too angry. Of course, she was the one working for him, not the other way around, but she was a very, very valuable person to have on his side and he would hate for there to be any hard feelings between them, that was all. 

He assumed everything would proceed according to plan, though. Wedy would meet with the recruits at nine o'clock, and she would meet with him afterward at ten o'clock in his room.

It struck him that Wedy was on his mind quite a bit lately, sometimes in a decidedly not-safe-for-work kind of way. Obviously, she was attractive, even a blind man could see that; and he had always thought of her as competent and capable, smart and adaptable, just now...was there something different about her? Maybe there was something different about him. Well, even if he felt weird around her tomorrow, he could hide it well; he was really self-contained most of the time, and he was aware that he already struck most people as being pretty weird as he was, what few people he actually spent enough time with to leave any real impression at all anymore. Since he was never really going to exude the whole "smooth operator" vibe, he might as well use whatever he had to his advantage any way he could, even what he had was a whole lot of oddness.

Still no reply from her. She was reliable, though, she would be there. She would be there with him. 

Oh, God, the bedding!

He practically flew off the bed, tore the sheets and blankets off of it, rolled them up into a bundle and stuffed them into his hamper in the closet, taking out a fresh stack of bedclothes on his way out.

He hastily made the bed. At least now it was clean and smelled good and fresh. Perhaps it would help him drift away a little easier. He sighed quietly and stared at his laptop, contemplating working on some of his Greek language lessons. Instead, he turned on the TV and watched an animated series about the hijinks and romantic entanglements of the members of a secret spy organization. It was quite silly, but sort of funny. He caught himself wondering if Wedy liked that sort of thing.

He did drift away, very, very eventually, curled up in a fetal position, television still buzzing with images and faint noises he would hear spliced between dreams he wouldn't quite recall.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 Wedy was up customarily early and hit the gym for a short routine; it would be good to get her blood pumping first thing in the morning, and she had to overcompensate for the fact that she'd skipped the gym last night in favor of lounging around reading her paperback, and had capped off the night watching that spy cartoon show she caught periodically. 

She readied herself efficiently, and dressed smartly as usual, looking quite polished but making less of a fashion statement; black mid-length skirt with a modest back slit, black boatneck knit top with three-quarter sleeves, accessories in patent deep burgundy and silver jewelry.She had a fleeting thought about how nice it must be to literally be able to wear whatever you want to work, even if it was the same rumpled outfit day in and day out.

She was back at L's hotel conference room at nine o'clock just as she'd been instructed to be. Everyone else was there already, except for the dark-haired American man; she had been notified via Watari that the man had cited some sort of family emergency and turned around and left around 9pm the previous night. Oh well. She hoped his family was OK, but it's not like he really made a great impression on her at first, even though that might have been a bit harsh. 

At 9:03, that old, familiar, computer-altered voice came out over the speaker system. Even through the voice-changing effects, L somehow sounded a little out of it today. Maybe he was coming down with something. He always seemed borderline germophobic, leave it to him to not wipe down a doorknob before touching it and wind up with walking pneumonia.

Of course what Wedy couldn't possibly know was that L was communicating with them from his bed, still in the fetal postion, having barely shifted an inch away from where he'd fallen asleep just over three hours beforehand. He had almost slept through his alarm, and was of course still clad in the comfy cotton combo he'd worn as pajamas.

The questions were all fairly routine and the recruits did well; nobody came across as especially outstanding to her in the moment, but that was what the follow-ups with L in person were for. Hopefully he was just a little groggy and not harboring anything contagious. 

He was very groggy, but also in an inexplicably good mood, almost a bit bubbly. Which was a positive thing, because it was probably the only thing infusing him with enough energy to get into his usual get-up of boxers, white shirt, and jeans, rearrange the blankets, and inspect the tray of food and coffee Watari had brought him.

He was placing the usual six sugarcubes in his coffee cup when there was a quiet, civilized knock at the door.

One minute past ten-that should be her!

He looked out the peephole furtively; yes, it was her. She looked lovely. Not that it mattered, they were there to judge the candidates, not her.

He opened up the door.

"Greetings, Wedy. How are you this morning?" All the words came out okay, no spittle flying from his mouth or gaseous emissions he might be embarrassed about. Things were going well!

He gazed at her hazily and shuffled out of the way so she could enter the room.

She strode in and set her purse down on the coffee table.

"I'm well, L," she replied. "I hope you are..?"

"Hm?" he asked, nibbling his thumb.

She took off her sunglasses and sighed.

"Are you okay, L?"

"Yes, I am." Ah. There were those eyes. Like the sky on an early spring morning. No-no, no, no, like a glass of sugared lime juice-no, more like a scoop of mint ice cream, but without the chocolate chips.

"Alright. Well, let's get to work."

Oh, yes, that whole thing. Yes. The reason they were there. The reason he got up in the morning and one of the reasons he stayed up so late at night. Pretty much the only reason he and Wedy had ever even met in the first place. Pretty much the only reason he did anything at all anymore.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 They pored over the footage for an hour or more, going over every nuance, every motion and vocal inflection, analyzing and reviewing and dissecting and rewinding in their minds, synthesizing information and evaluating and discussing until it was hard to believe there was anything they HADN'T covered already, anything besides the potentially mind-numbing drabness of the conference room itself.

It was pretty much already decided which candidates would get an offer by then, the rest was just formalities and niceties and, well, whatever the hell they were doing at that point.

Wedy had attempted to momentarily occupy herself with a drink of...coffee? Tea? Juice? Water? Anything, really, and a small bite to snack on, but it seemed that L hadn't really had that in mind. He sat and sipped his coffee intently, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he'd devoured all the little bits and bites that had been put out on display. She'd barely had half a chance to discern the cheddar cubes from the cantaloupe chunks before they were gone in bursts of crunching and munching from a certain maladjusted detective in her proximity.

"Hey, L, look, it's not like I'm just here for the food, but seriously..." she gestured toward the tray, smiling archly.

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry", he said, looking slightly worried.

"It's okay", she told him, amused at the whole situation. After all this time, and even with all his many quirks, she sometimes forgot about how truly lacking in social graces he could be. He was actually looking at her as if he expected a switchblade to the side. Over snacks.

"It's just a little rude, that's all", she continued. "Here you are, here I am, we've been working on all this for nearly two hours, and you're basically stuffing your face to your heart's content while you've yet to offer me as much as a cup of coffee. Just a half hour ago there was enough food here for the whole entire staff of the CIA, the FBI, and the MI6!"

"Yes. I suppose you're right". Feeling ashamed, he looked down at the floor. His hair fell across his forehead and eyes like a curtain suddenly drawn in front of a window. He drew in a breath to gather his nerves and go on speaking. "Please accept my apology. In a moment I can have Watari bring up another tray with some food and a cup for you as well so you may partake of anything you like." He glanced up at her cautiously. "It's just that I don't typically get much company, and it's easy to forget...you know...how to conduct oneself in these types of settings." His low voice grew even quieter, "Especially if one was never very much at ease in these situations in the first place." He pulled at his lower lip, gently, but nervously.

"Yeah. I guess a guy in your specialized line of work doesn't really do a lot of entertaining, huh?" she replied, her smile turning sly, but slightly soft.  

"That is true. Despite my extensive education and intensive training over the years, etiquette lessons did always present a challenge for me." He smiled back at her with an expression somewhere near the intersection of playful and repentant.

Wedy was slightly disarmed by the shy, sweet expression of his face paired with the joking demeanor. He really could be kind of cute sometimes. That is, when he wasn't acting as the leading cause of famine in the modern world.

He had one hell of a head of hair, that was for sure; thick and shiny, a beautiful shade of cool-toned brown-black. Too bad every time she got up close to it it seemed like a bird might fly out of it any minute if you weren't careful. Not that she had any real reason or inclination to get too close to him or his hair anyway; she had her hands full as it was and her own hair care regimen to contend with.

While Wedy had been busy evaluating his appearance, L had put in the request for Watari to bring in some more refreshments and another cup. Soon there he was, stately and reserved as ever, pushing along a shining silver tray covered in fruit tarts and vegetable sticks and who knows what else, plus another pot of coffee and the additional cup, replete with saucer. Somehow Watari was one of those people who gave the impression of having been born already old. Then again, what did she know. In his day he was probably "Jack the Lad"...

She thanked him and filled her own cup, smiling with gratitude.

"No trouble at all", he responded, smiling back faintly.

He then turned briefly to the detective.

"Will there be anything else?"

"No thank you, Watari. That will be all for now."

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And of course I am no more owner, in part or in full, of Death Note, than I was at the start of the fic, nor do I claim to be or plan to portray myself as such. Of course I am grateful to Ohba, Obata, and Isin for the inspiring works!


	5. Lust and Paranoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's baaa-aaack......
> 
> ( Cue sound of crickets chirping in an otherwise deafening silence... )
> 
> To anyone out there reading this: I cannot tell you how many times I have thought about leaving this work as it is; unfinished, incomplete, hanging by a thread with barely a leg to stand on, chock full of mixed metaphors and ill-used alliterations. I also can't count how many times I seriously considered orphaning it, setting it free into the wilderness of the web and hoping it will be better that way and that someday it might find its way to a more suitable home.
> 
> Even though I could never quite get the care and maintenance of this fic down quite right, I couldn't bring myself to part with it.
> 
> And so, months and months and months, and several rewrites, reimaginings, and deletions later, here we are.
> 
> Yet if you're stopping by to check it out, thank you, and hope you enjoy it.

  * * * *




She sat and sipped her mineral water with poise.

 

He sat across from her, slurping down the remaining drops of his cherry limeade with an obnoxious sound she chose to overlook. Temporarily.

 

He looked at her as if he were expecting some kind of reaction, but it never came. Not as much as one raised eyebrow.

 

Somehow that made things even more awkward for him.

 

He could tell she could tell he wasn't sure what to think, because in the next moment he saw her unsuccessfully trying to fight back a smirk.

 

"Pretty good, huh?" she asked him, pointedly.

 

"Yes," he replied, looking her directly in the eyes. "I suppose if I were going to make such a show of my enjoyment, the least I could have done was requested one for you as well."

 

"And...WHAT'S that supposed to mean, exactly?"

 

What a shame; up to just then they'd been having a really nice time. L was actually a pretty good conversationalist once he relaxed a little bit. Mostly they'd just talked about matters of crime and the finer points of the law, espionage and treachery, and technological advancements kept so tightly under wraps they weren't even supposed to admit to each other they knew about them-shop talk, if you will, but these were subjects they were both fascinated with, so it was more like discussing dangerous and expensive hobbies than work.

 

And of course the conversation had veered off into the food and beverage category at a couple of points, too.

 

"That is to say, I supposed I was being rude just then, and that was an attempt at saying I was sorry without actually having to say I was sorry." His face remained virtually expressionless.

 

Virtually, except for a hint of some vague mix of fear and shame in his eyes that Wedy found oddly compelling for a moment.

 

"Well, it was a pretty sorry attempt at saying sorry, but it's okay."

 

He looked visibly relieved.

 

"Wedy, can I ask you something?"

 

She braced herself for what she could only imagine would be a last-minute request to embark on some outlandish, mental stability-eroding, life-endangering assignment that she would no doubt question her judgment for entertaining for but be grateful for once the deposit showed up in her account.

 

"What is it, L?"

 

He looked pensive and stared at a point in the distance before posing his question.

 

"Wedy, would you-" His sentence broke off out of nowhere, which was very unlike him. He closed his eyes, drew in a breath, and continued.

 

"Wedy," he began again, turning to look at her with surprisingly soulful, searching eyes, "if you're free for a bit, would you like to watch a movie or some television with me? An entertaining diversion might do me some good, and I'd like it if you joined me."

 

His outward demeanor remained matter-of-fact even as his heart began to race. 

 

She mulled the proposal over briefly.

 

"Sure." She smiled wryly. "As long as you promise to be on your best behavior."

 

Although her reply had done nothing to quell the ricocheting inside his chest, he felt a surge of elation. Followed immediately by a surge of panic as he felt his mouth involuntarily forming a smile. He brought his thumb to his lip as an antidote to the silly expression. He started gently biting the tip of said thumb and focusing on the sensations it brought, which helped settle him down. 

 

That is, until he noticed Wedy looking directly at his mouth. _What have I gotten myself into with this,_ he wondered. Whatever it was, he wondered whether or not he even wanted to try to get out of it.

* * *

 

"Oh, this show is pretty good! I mean, it's pretty ridiculous, but it's supposed to be; although if you're looking for a distraction, you might not want to watch a show about espionage and subterfuge."

 

L perked up immediately.

 

"Actually, I like this show, it's a rather amusing satire." He glanced back at the screen. "This is an episode I haven't seen yet. Let's watch this." He settled back onto the bed, right in the middle, leaning back into the pillows and stretching out his legs.

 

"Okay", she said, shifting in her seat, crossing her legs. 

 

Didn't he look cozy over there?

 

"Do you mind if I kick off my shoes?" 

 

Was that look on one of his face shock, horror, or dismay? That was some nerve coming from him.

 

"That's absolutely fine," he said, his words awkwardly stilted.

 

Whether it really was fine or he was being unconvincingly polite, she slipped her shoes off and was subsequently struck by the strange feeling of being watched, or rather a variation on it; the odd experience of being almost completely sure you're being looked at without ever actually having eyes laid on you.

 

Oh. THAT'S what it was-the room was slowly filling with the tension brought on when someone is concentrating very hard on trying NOT to look at you.

 

Wedy began to entertain the idea of a distraction of a different kind.

 

Just a little harmless amusement to help pass the time during the commercial breaks. And besides, how could she pass up such a unique opportunity to do some field research on the behavioral patterns of the greatest mind and most unconventional personalities in investigative work.

 

She straightened her left leg out in front of her and began to slowly rotate her ankle.

 

The detective's only discernable movement was to start fiddling around with the remote control.

 

She returned her left leg to its bent position and stretched out the right one, repeating the same circular motion with her ankle. 

 

As she did so, she stole a glance at L, still reclining casually on the bed. Despite his apparent indifference to her activity, she could sense an aura building up around him and enclosing him in a quietly buzzing bubble of excitement and dread.

 

Ah well. It wasn't like he rose to the rank of World's Greatest Detective by getting easily distracted by feminine wiles.

 

And she hadn't gotten where she was by using cheap ploys on powerful men-well, not entirely, anyway.

 

* * *

 

An hour later and two episodes into their satirical spy show marathon, laughter filled the air, punctuated by the frequent commentary from one or the other of them about the outlandish plot points, ridiculous situations, and errors in the animation.

 

"See? There she is, they're still in the same room, nobody came or went, she's still in the same outfit, except her sash just magically disappeared! And now...wait a minute...there it is again! It's like they were too busy putting the finishing touches on her bear claw to keep her wardrobe continuity!"

 

L paused at Wedy's observation.

 

"Of course, I'd already noticed, I just didn't point it out because it would have distracted you from the storyline," he said thoughtfully.

 

Wedy chuckled.

 

"Was that a joke or was I actually supposed to believe that?" she asked.

 

"It's funny because it's true," he replied with a smile.

 

"It's actually neither."

 

"You don't appreciate my style of humor?"

 

"Don't quit your day job."

 

"Most of my best work is done during the night these days," he said in a mock serious tone.

 

"Well, it's obviously not at the comedy club," she said.

 

"Perhaps you should add 'dasher of dreams' to your already extensive and colorful resume," L deadpanned.

 

"Destroyer of delusions would be more accurate," she replied. "Perhaps you should scoot over."

 

"Why?"

 

"So....I...can sit on the bed and be comfortable too? Or are you going to make me regret this little two-person viewing party?" she asked half-jokingly, wondering to herself if she shouldn't be regretting it already.

 

"Certainly, you may sit wherever you like," said the detective, looking at her with eyes wide and expectant, betraying the anxiety behind his stillness.

 

His mind seemed to be doing battle both with itself and the rest of his body. This was something more than just the usual feelings of unease, nervousness, and occasional panic; for as long as he could remember, those feelings had been ever-present. This was different, a strange conflict of internal interests. 

He was beginning to wonder if Wedy was up to something, despite the fact that he had been the one to invite her to spend time with him. Of course, he had no real reason not to trust her. Quite the opposite, actually.

Although it wasn't as though he really, truly, genuinely and completely trusted anybody. Not even himself.

Regardless, he only moved over a couple of inches as she got onto the bed with him, right there on that big, comfortable bed, and settled in right next to him.

He could smell the faint aroma of her perfume, a gentle, floral scent.

He was sure she could hear him breathing.

He felt like he should make some excuse and leave, save for the fact that it was his hotel room.

He was so close to her he could have pretended to accidentally brush up against her and touch what he imagined would be the softest, smoothest skin he would ever feel in his lifetime. He didn't dare move an inch in any direction, but found himself hoping she might accidentally brush up against him. ______________________________________________________________________________________ 

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked him earnestly.

He turned to meet her gaze. "Yes", he replied quietly.

The light from the television glided over his strong, distinctive features. She thought how unusual his eyes were, their color so unlike that of anyone else she'd ever seen at all. She wondered if they were that way naturally or if it was the effect of color contact lenses . 

A smile danced across his lips. Her attention turned back to the tv just in time to see one of the funniest things to happen on the show yet as they simultaneously burst into laughter, his almost soundless save for a few halting, throaty noises. 

"Am I wearing out my welcome yet?" she asked once the laughter died down.

" Not in the least," he said, looking at her with a smile.

She suddenly realized they were looking at each other a little bit longer than colleagues, or a n employee and her employer, or two people like them at all probably should. 

Any other time, she would have swiftly gotten up, politely said some cordial, professional parting words, and left. 

Instead, just to see what he would do, just to see what would happen, just because she felt a harmless little surge of strange affection toward the man next to her on the bed, she leaned over to give him a brief kiss on the cheek.

And when she pulled back, she wasn't sure whether the look on L's face meant she'd just ruined her reputation for keeping her composure, wrecked her chances of ever working for him again, or if she'd killed his image of her forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( please disregard the other end notes about chapter deletion, revision, etc.; I haven't been able to remove that part properly, and frankly, I'm tired right now... )


	6. What Have I Done ( To Deserve This )?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter....thanks for stopping by!

His heart hammered away inside his chest. Paralyzed with fear, he couldn't bring himself to even glance at her sideways.

It had been quite a long time since he'd had any reasons to question her motives-well, none besides his natural, pervasive suspicion of people, and the abundant accounts of deceit and betrayal among people in their lines and levels of work.

What the hell was going on here?

The detective's mind scrambled for answers, hints, clues, anything to soothe that gnawing feeling that one of his most trusted employees was attempting to turn on him in a most egregious and lurid way.

He wasn't sure what was worse; that Wedy was perhaps a double agent of some kind, a plant, or that she'd been tempted into disloyalty by a fat paycheck; or that he'd been so deep inside his own head as a result of recent events that he'd never seen it coming.

Maybe the worst part of it all was having his intelligence so flagrantly insulted.

No.

The worst part was that he'd very nearly fallen for the worn-out ruse.

No.

Almost.

The worst part was how much he'd wanted to believe the lie.

That a wom an like that could want someone like him.

Despite his many and outstanding attributes, he was still aware of his faults, his flaws, his shortcomings, and his own organic strangeness that no doubt would have hindered him greatly had he pursued countless different career paths, or even entertained for a moment the idea of trying to have something resembling a "normal" life, whatever that was.

The time for rumination, however, would be later, if ever. Now, he had to act. The secrecy of his identity-IDENTITIES-might have been compromised, his files might have been hacked, all the intricacies of his cases might have been exposed. Shit. Every one of the residents of Wammy's House, past, present, and future might be in mortal danger at this very moment. And there wasn't a single thing he could do about it with the Intel he had. Being that he had absolutely no intel on the situation whatsoever. 

He deliberately yet subtly settled his breathing pattern, gathered himself, and lifted his body gracefully from the bed.

He crossed the room swiftly, even though he he had that sneaking suspicion that in hi is desperation to remain outwardly nonchalant he would stub his whole foot on an easily avoided piece of furniture.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Oh my God. What HAVE I DONE?

The thought echoed through her mind as visions of her job security, career trajectory, and lifestyle crumbled before her very eyes.

The prestige. The power. The thrills. The trust.

Even though all these things might as well have been imaginary, for all anyone in her fake real life knew about how she really obtained them and exactly to what extent they extended to, they meant something to her. A great deal.

Sure, once you've been blacklisted by L, of course, your life can go on. It can.

It will also never be the same again.

She watched in a petrified storm of terror and horror as he calmly got to his feet and strode across the room.

'Shit', she thought, ' I just wanted to have some fun. Experiment a little. Now I've as good as lost it all.'

'Plus now I have to figure out a way to get into that credit account and erase my expenses before Watari can cut me off and send me the bill and I'm back to shopping for shoes at Thrifty Trends again.'

'Oh, come on,' said a chiding voice from the back of her mind, 'before you know it you'll be applying at Thrifty Trends. AGAIN.' 

L was telegraphing one of his patented, positively chilling glares straight in her direction. 'Oh God,' she thought, 'maybe if I get out of here fast enough, I can submit my Termination Of Affiliation forms, skip town, and make the necessary changes before I end up doomed to decades of data entry work in some town where everything's closed by ten O'clock at night..."

She took a deep breath and steeled herself the best she could. She hated the feelings of fear, uncertainty, and helplessness that were steadily taking root inside her; she prided herself on her independence and strong will, and the fact that she had allowed herself to be caught up in this type of situation was worrying, to say the least.

There would be time to reflect on her life choices later at the airport on her way to Anywhere Else U.S.A; she needed to get in her last words to him and get her ass out the door.

"Look, I'm sorry...I...I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know if I WAS thinking." She stopped short of blurting out "I didn't mean anything by it", but not only was that a worn-out cliche, plus being potentially kind of insulting, it was also not the truth.

She always thought when you started spewing out the stupid shit people say when they really don't know what to say, it was probably better for them to just shut up and leave. She also figured there was no real reason that rule shouldn't apply to her, too.

"L, I'm sorry. I should just go." Feeling even more vulnerable than if she were caught sleeping stark naked in a stranger's bed, she got up, jammed her feet back into her shoes, gathered her things, and hurried toward the door.

A fresh new fear gripped her soul as L positioned himself directly in front of the door, standing firmly, blocking her way out.

She had never truly thought L would ever do anything intentionally to harm her, especially physically. Regardless, a nauseating wave of concern coursed through her body as she realized she might be about to learn the hard way what REALLY happened to Deneuve after all.

"Wait, Wedy. Don't go yet. We need to talk. And....I have something I want to give you", L said solemnly.

She approached him cautiously.

"Oh, good, okay; I just want to expl-"

Her sentence was abruptly cut off, as well as her train of thought, by the sensation of strong hands gripping her waist and the crush of The World's Greatest Detective's lips against hers.


	7. Undecided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What they really need to investigate is why the dry cleaning cost for women's clothing is higher than for men's....
> 
> As always, thanks for stopping by!

Their lips met and parted again and again, never separating more than the distance you would need to fit a sheet of paper between them, never for more than a fraction of a second.

The meetings of their mouths alternated between hesitancy and urgency, delicacy and firmness. Though neither of them made an attempt to explore the other with their tongues, there was still a palpable heat rising between them.

As Wedy felt the detective's hands slip away from her body and their brief dance of kisses was over, their eyes locked. She wondered if the low buzzing sensation she felt throughout her body was being betrayed by her facial expression. L looked at her with an apprehension only eclipsed by a lustful intensity.

Her stomach was a churning sea, and in that instant she felt like she never quite had before-a rush of anxiousness, confusion, and desire.

What seemed to her like an interminable, thundering silence was finally broken.

"You have nothing to apologize for", L said clearly, directly. "If you did, I'd probably know it by now." 

'Of course, it would take the next five best of the spies, security experts, and researchers on our payroll combined to equal her, but she should already know that..and now is not the time to tell her one way or the other,' he thought.

"That's true", she said, with a hint of a vulnerable smile.

' She has to realize this is all rather suspicious', he thought. Still, he could hardly afford to give the game away, especially when he wasn't sure what she playing at.

"You just startled me, that's all. This sort of thing doesn't really happen to me very often. Despite the pervasive rumors, the "L" doesn't stand for Lothario." His expression was pure deadpan.

Her smile broadened. His sense of satisfaction at this was almost entirely self-preserving and professional; the more he could disarm her, the better, even though he knew she had her own tactics at her disposal. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, all that sort of thing. Although they had never really been what most people would call friends and it had been a long time since he'd been concerned about her becoming an adversary...yet he had to accept he might be about to uncover some very nefarious plans. 

Oh well. His life being potentially in danger wasn't an overheated, paranoid delusion, or the occasional cause for panic. It was a perpetual problem for him, more matter of fact than anything else. It was all in how one dealt with it. Why should today be any different?

It was a different kind of day indeed, he realized, as Wedy pressed her lips to his again, more insistently, slowly coaxing his mouth open to invade it with a devouring kiss. 

He gave in - not too far, and gave back - not too hard, after all, he had to keep his wits about him since the situation was a dynamic one, to say the very least. Thanks to the obvious importance of not losing himself in the sheer experience, he thought back to the...preparedness training exercises he'd undergone a few years ago, and how unexpectedly useful they were at times like this. Not that that there HAD quite been any other times like this, but still....He didn't want to think he was a completely terrible kisser; after all, if the games they were playing included Seven Minutes in Heaven, he didn't want to be caught entirely at a loss. The need to get to the bottom of this was clearly very pressing, and it would surely be a challenge; yet without challenges, how is a person supposed to know what they are truly capable of? Or so he told himself while he burned his brain cells trying not to succumb to the soft, wet heat of the kiss that threatened to defeat him. And also figuring out his course of action against his increasingly noticeable erection. ______________________________________________________________________________

They stumbled toward the bed together, her hands freely roaming the upper half of the detective's taut, tense body. Though he was responsive, he seemed restrained. Sensing he was holding back, though not sure why, she slowed her pace and lightened her caresses; she didn't want him to feel like he was about to be consumed alive by some man-eating she-beast, even if her appetite was getting stronger by the second.

She brought her lips to his neck, just below his ear, yielding a low, rumbling hum from him that he probably didn't realize he made. She continued gently and steadily downward, fighting the surprising urge to bite down into his smooth skin.

Locked in an embrace, everything around her seemed to grow sharp and clear, then hazy and muddled, and back again.

Finally reaching the bed, they sat entwined in a kind of strange, sensual limbo. The detective's hands roved along her shoulders, arms, back, and waist not entirely ungracefully, with a hunger and intensity she could feel through the fabric of her clothing.

Feeling fingertips buzzing with energy edging just underneath her top, she let them linger for a moment, letting her mind settle and her breathing even out.

The moment came to an end and her impulses took hold, and her top was off by her own two hands in a swift flourish, drifting to the floor.

Things were moving fast, and neither of them were quite prepared for what would happen next.

____________________________________________________________

 

"Dammit, it's on my top, too!"

Wedy had been trying to hide her irritation for L's sake. She knew he had to be embarrassed, at least a little, and she really didn't mean to make things worse.

Of course, the only thing worse than having The World's Greatest Detective blow his load all over her the minute her hand and his hard-on make contact during an ill-advised sexual encounter was having a long streak of seminal fluid right across the front of her top.

How did he even get it all the way over there?!?

So much for a dignified exit, she thought, sighing.

"I'm sorry", L said sheepishly.

'This whole situation is a mess no matter which way you look at it', she thought.

She turned to look at him, sitting dejectedly on the edge of the bed, stark naked, his shoulders slumped, eyes downcast.

"No, look, I'm sorry. It happens. Just....let me go get cleaned up, ok?"

"Yes. Alright," he replied, his voice subdued.

She hurried into the bathroom and began hastily wiping off her stomach and arms with tissue. She turned toward the mirror with the intention of doing a quick makeup check, only to make a startling discovery.

'My HAIR, TOO?!' 

She grumbled at her reflection. She went to remove the sticky blob from her strands before it got clumpy and matted, then froze when she overheard the detective speaking in a hushed tone. Her heart began to race.

'Oh come on, he's probably just talking to Watari', she admonished herself, feeling rather silly. She wasn't wild about the idea of the grandfatherly elder statesman of inventions and investigative work seeing her in such a state, but as long as she was quick to retreat, polite, and calm, it shouldn't be a problem.

She finished up and exited the bathroom. She rushed out to the bedroom to find L standing at the corner of the bed, still completely nude. His expression had transformed back to that oh-so-familiar, matter-of-fact look.

She caught herself just before she let her gaze travel below his waist.

'That IS some pretty impressive equipment he's got to work with, there. Shame it malfunctioned before I really got a chance to test it out', she thought. 'Ah well.' Some curiosities were probably better left unexplored. After all, just having to know what all the fuss was about certain things was how she developed a pack-a-day habit she sometimes still struggled not to lapse back into, not to mention how pissed off L got that time she hacked Geraldo Coyle's personal accounts even after he emphatically told her to keep her distance.

"Wedy, I have a proposition for you." 

'Oh fuck, NOW what', she wondered. She started to wonder if Watari was on his way and started getting nervous again despite herself. She noticed some clothes neatly folded on the bed, a different outfit from the one L had torn off of himself not long before then.

"Listen, L, can we talk about it later? Right now I need to get freshened up, change my clothes, and I have projects I'm working on, too. No hard feelings, but could we get together tomorrow or something?" A chill hit her semi-clothed body. 'Can I just get outta here before things get even MORE awkward than they ALREADY ARE?' She drew her arms up around herself, longing for the comfort of her own room where she could stuff herself with cheesecake and champagne and try to rationalize some of her poorer life choices.

"Wedy, if you will allow me to state my case, I think you'll find all your wishes will be fulfilled to a satisfactory measure and then some."

'Despite all the obvious evidence to the contrary', she silently snarked.

"Wedy, hear me out," he said in a commanding tone. "Please."

'I don't know if I appreciate that tone of voice when I'm not on the clock...but...he did say please. Puts up a good front for somebody who's just been humiliated by their own physiology.' 

She quickly glanced down at her top still lying on the floor.

'Ugh. That spooge is pretty well set-in by now, too. Shit.'

"Alright, L," she said, making sure to use a measured yet accommodating tone. "Let's hear it. Then I've really got to go."

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, for context's sake, this is set to take place during the time period between the LABB Murder Case and the Kira case.
> 
> ***Also, to anyone stopping by or who has already, coming very soon: chapter condensation, chapter elimination, and essentially taking a different tack from very early on in the story. Wish me luck, I'll need it...***


End file.
